


Frost and Memories

by octopus_fool



Series: Yuletide Cheer [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Femslash Friday, Past Relationship(s), Winter, ardaadvent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the winter frosts reach Lothlorien, Galadriel feels drawn into the lonely woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frost and Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt 4 of [ardaadvent](http://ardaprompts.tumblr.com/post/133103717966/arda-advent-guidelines) on tumblr, "memories".

When a chill fell on Lothlorien, Galadriel liked to walk into the woods, leaving Caras Galadhon with its hidden telain and lights behind. There was no snow, but the frost on the grass and ferns crunched beneath her feet and the golden leaves of the mellyrn glittered from the silver crystals on their edges. 

She knew how to avoid her guards and if they did see her pass through the woods as a shimmering figure robed in frost, they knew better than to stop her. Her feet led her to the outer regions of the woods, where snow dusted the leaves of the mellyrn and the beeches that mingled with them. 

Galadriel leaned against the trunk of a large mallorn and closed her eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the icy forest. She did not know why the winter woods called to her the way they did. 

It had been spring, bright-coloured spring when she had met her, trailing nightingales behind her. Kneeling before her had felt as natural as breathing, Galadriel’s pride wilting under the Queen’s gaze. Galadriel would always remember how soft the Queen’s hands had been when she took Galadriel’s hand and bade her to rise. She had placed a piece of bread in Galadriel’s palm with her long, pale fingers. It melted into sweet nourishment when it touched Galadriel’s tongue, filling her with warmth. 

And then Melian spoke. It had been music, the words rolling off Melian’s tongue like notes of a song. Galadriel had never been able to remember if Melian’s welcome had held words, song or something else entirely. 

A soft wind whispered in the leaves above Galadriel’s head, sending crystals of snow drifting towards the ground in a glittering mist. The breeze brushed her cheek like a gentle caress. She closed her eyes again.

It had been long after that first meeting that she felt Melian’s gentle touch again. Galadriel and Melian had been walking through the woods, Galadriel talking about her ideas of how she imagined a realm of her own. Melian had given her that smile that made Galadriel feel far younger than she was and had run her fingers over Galadriel’s face. The touch had been so light that it might as well have been a snowflake landing on her skin. 

Their walks became more frequent and they reminisced about the gardens of Lórien until the memories hung heavy in the warm summer air, like dreams just out of reach. By a pool under willows, dark shimmering locks mingled with golden tresses, bygone days dissolving into unfamiliar ripples. Nightingales sang and Galadriel fell into a dream woven of dark hair.

There was a soft rustle and Galadriel opened her eyes to see a robin flutter away. Galadriel sighed. Somehow, she still expected to see a nightingale when she walked through the wintery forest. Perhaps, if she just heard the sweet, haunting melody of a nightingale’s song, she could imagine the brush of Melian’s presence. 

The breeze grew colder, its lonely breath rustling the leaves. Galadriel wrapped herself in her cloak more tightly and turned back towards her realm.


End file.
